Cool Side Scenes, revealed

This is a thread for everyone to post the side scenes they were involved in. I've got two major ones, I might also post a solo write-up or two. But let's put them each in their own posts, for ease of finding, reading, and/or skipping to the good parts.

The Cop Scene
November, 2008
Written co-operatively by Sacha/Cheriour, Jenn/Rebecca, Laura/Malicia, and our Storyteller, Jill

(Sorry, it's very long, but if you've wondering about the truth behind this event... also it's pretty nicely written, I think!)

Cheriour jogs, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, his heart beating quickly, filled with excitement, his mind clear with certainty in doing God's work. He arrives at a public park, and drops the duffle bag. He looks through the symphony, seeking Rebecca.

Rebecca slips out her bedroom window after dark, and drops silently to the ground outside her domus. Casting one quick glance at the lit up windows of the house, she hurries through the dark streets towards the park where she and Cheriour arranged to meet, her hands deep in the pockets of her dark jeans, hood tugged up over her head to cover her hair. Cheriour spots her, and picks up the bag. He approaches her, his eyes shining, his movements confident. When he nears, he looks into her eyes and asks "Are you feeling firm in your Conviction and strong in your Righteousness?"

Rebecca smiles at the sight of Cheriour, arching a brow at his confidence. "Of course I am. I think the work I have been doing, the notes, the fear...I really think that it is working. These men are afraid, and they are beginning to see the errors of their ways."

"A man must die tonight."

She freezes, some of the colour draining from her face. "What are you talking about, Cheriour?" She hisses softly, grabbing for his hand. "Why? We don't need to kill to do Gods work."

Cheriour takes her hand, and looks into her eyes. "There is an officer of the law. He is a rapist. He is a shepherd that has betrayed his flock."

Becca's fingers are cool as they wrap around his hands, and she frowns. "You found a rapist. Are you sure? The kings...they won't be happy if we are wrong."

"Malicia is sure, and so I am sure. She is Just."

She looks into his face and frowns a little, before nodding. "Fine....but we will have him confess his sins first. I need to be certain."

Cheriour nods. "That was always my plan. Shall we go?"

As the two talk, Malicia skulks along the streets of the city, looking side to side. Every so often she peers deep into a shadow, or jumps at a noise behind her. Eventually she makes her way to near where Rebecca and Cheriour are standing. She waits a moment, watching them with a dark expression, then approaches. Rebecca drops Cheriours hand as Malicia approaches, folding her hands in front of her and frowning.

"I am sorry, Cheriour," Malicia begins. "I have found more information for us, so we can kill more later... but I was not able to get any others here tonight. We will have only the one for our message."

"One is enough, for now."

"We could do as originally planned, and execute one every month until the corruption ends."

Cheriour shrugs. "There will always be corruption. We merely show that there is Justice as well."

"Yes," Malicia responds, but she looks uncertain. She almost seems to be struggling not to move her gaze downward, toward Rebecca's hands.

Rebecca frowns severely, her fingers white as she clutches them together. "We should go." Cheriour nods, and then smiles. "It is good to be among fellow soldiers, united in Righteousness!"

Malicia nods. "Yes, tonight we will make a great step toward Justice."

Becca shakes her head, her eyes on Malicia. "Where are we going, Malicia? You know these men the best, yeah?"

"This one always stops at JD's when he ends a late shift. If his schedule holds up, he will -" she stops, whipping her head around, but settles when she sees nothing. "He will be coming out now, as they are closing shortly."

Rebecca arches a brow, looking into the shadows behind Malicia. Cheriour only nods, hoists the duffle bag, nods to both of his companions, and then says, "And so it begins." He begins to jog, and Rebecca follows. Malicia's eyes narrow for a moment before she joins them, then moves to take the lead. Before long she has brought them to the bar, its seedy lights blinking in the night. "Here."

Becca slows as they approach the bar. "What is the plan, Cheriour? You can't think that we are going to just grab him in the parking lot?" Cheriour looks at her. "That is exactly what I thought. God will shield us from harm." He opens the duffle bag, and removes a gag and a tonfa.

Becca sighs and runs her hand over her face, fighting back a touch of frustration and the urge to turn around and go play scrabble with Gabe and Jordan. "That's a bad idea."

"We could travel a little ways along his route," Malicia suggests. "Well, we would have to break the windows, then. But there are a few streets less... in the open... than this one."

Cheriour frowns. "I will rely on a plan that you two create. Usually, Elias would be here to help, but he said that he would make it easier for us in other ways..."

Becca shakes her head and shrugs. "I'm not a planner. I'll do whatever needs to be done, if you think grabbing him in a lit parking lot in front of several other partiers is a good idea, I'll do what i can to help."

Cheriour turns to Malicia, and raises an eyebrow. "God blessed you with a powerful mind. What should we do?"

Malicia wanders over to the officer's car and peers at it. "Perhaps one of us could hide in the back? We wouldn't have to go very far. Then we could... convince... him to pull over, fairly easily I suspect. Or desecrate the engine so that he will have to pull over of his own volition." Becca walks up behind Malicia and peers in the window, frowning a little. "Can you desecrate, Malicia? Maybe...I suppose I could get in the back..."

Cheriour rubs his jaw, but keeps an eye on the bar and anyone leaving. He glances at Malicia and Rebecca. "Can either of you get into the car?"

"Not without breaking the window." She frowns. You're right, Cheriour. He'll be out any minute, we should just grab him.

Cheriour looks at Malicia.

"I could probably desecrate the trunk..."

Becca frowns, and leans in to look through the window. "Wait. Isn't there a barrier from the back to the front seat?"

"Okay, let's just do the little bitty thing on the hood, to get it open, and then do the engine."

"Fine, but you better hurry."

"I can do the engine, but not unless if someone else gets it open."

As they attempt to finalize their plans, Zemeckis walks out of the bar. He stares, bleary eyed, at the two women and one man standing and arguing at his car. "Hey," the cop says, his words slurring slightly, "what do you guys want?"

Malicia spins, her knife in her hand before she is facing him.

Becca clears her throat as the man makes his way to the car, a slow smirk curling her lips as he speaks.

The cops eyes widen as Cheriour moves to flank him, and his hand goes to his gun with surprising speed.

Becca steps forward, her smirk growing as the cop goes for his gun. "Ah ah ah....that's a bad idea."

Suddenly Malicia smiles, her hands moving to hide her knife, and she puts on a sickly sweet voice. "See, Muriel, you can just ASK him out, you know. Jeffy and I will leave you now if he's willing..."

"Huh...what?" The cop asks, hesitating on his draw.

"She thinks you're cute, you know."

Becca glances at Malicia, looking as confused as the cop for a second, before nodding slowly, and turning to the cop with a smile. "Ah...yeah...well....I've always been a sucker for a man in uniform."

At first, the cop begins to grin, but then he stiffens, clearly seeing that something is wrong. "No..." he begins, but then Cheriour grabs his gun arm and breaks it in a smooth motion. The officer opens his mouth to scream in pain. Malicia moves quickly toward him, trying to muffle the sound.

"Jesus" Becca hisses, and glares at Cheriour, darting foward to help Malicia muffle the screams. "Subtle. Real subtle."

"Where's the gag?" asks Malicia, but Cheriour strikes the cop's head with the tonfa, knocking him unconscious. Malicia is looking around frantically now, trying to see if anyone has heard. "Let's move it!"

"God damn it..." Becca grabs the cop as he falls, looking around nervously. "Lets go..." Cheriour takes the cop from Becca and swings him over his shoulder, starting to sprint. Malicia runs after them, head sweeping from side to side, and glancing back every moment or two. Becca lingers in the parking lot a moment after Cheriour scoops up the unconscious man, before running after the others.

Malicia is panicking. "Where are... oh God, they had to have heard... where are we bringing him?"

Moving through alleys and side-streets at a dead run, Cheriour pants, "The Domus!"

"Shut up and run." Becca says as she catches up with Malicia.

"Right." Malicia falls behind a bit as she can't help but keep looking back. "I'm sure we're being followed..."

"We aren't...but we will be if you don't get your ass in gear!"

Elias' Texan drawl is heard to yell, "Nothin to see here, folks! Police'll be here soon! Move along!"

"I... I'm sure I see someone," Malicia mutters, slowing down. "I'll deal with them and catch up."

Cheriour keeps running, but Becca grabs at Malicia's arm as she runs past, hissing angrily. "Come. On." Malicia starts running again, head still swivelling for a moment until she finally mutters, "Alright, alright," looks ahead, and books it. Becca keeps a few steps behind Malicia, to make sure she doesn't do something stupid like go back to the bar... Once more before they arrive, Malicia starts to slow down, but Becca pushes her forward and she keeps the pace.

As Cheriour nears the chain-link fence that seperates the Houses from the rest of the world, he bends his legs and then heaves the cop over. He then scales it, picks up the cop, and begins to haul him to the domus. Reaching the domus, Becca scrambles up and over the wall, waiting at the top to give Malicia a hand if she needs it, but Malicia ignores the hand, scaling it easily.

Cheriour hurls himself through the door of the domus, ignoring the splintering sound as the door strikes the wall. He slows only slightly as he rushes downstairs, and then quickly slaps manacles onto the hands and feet of the officer. Becca frowns at the damage, then shrugs her shoulders - not her domus, not her concern. She follows at a slightly more sedate pace into the basement, and watches silently as the officer is chained.

Malicia hesitates at the door, peering into the darkness in the direction from which they came. Then she carefully sets up what's left of the door and Santifies it, hoping it will be strong enough, in case anyone followed them. She descends the steps and sees that Cheriour and Rebecca have the cop well in hand.

"Now what?" asks Becca. "We wait till he wakes?"

--------------------


Cheriour pants, and sweat drips from his brow, but when he turns to Rebecca his eyes shine with vitality. "No, we wake him. I will fetch water." He bounds up the stairs.

Becca watches Cheriour leave, before turning back to the officer, a pained expression on her face as she crouches down beside his prone, chained form. Malicia crouches, not seeing Rebecca's face from her vantage, and pulls out her knife again, caressing it. Rebecca peers into the man's face, searching for some sign of evil, something to tell her that what is going to be done here is necessary and good.

Cheriour walks down the stairs. He is shirtless, and water is dripping from his recently wettened hair and beard. He carries a bucket of water. Becca quickly schools her expression, and looks up at him.

Cheriour reaches the bottom of the stairs. He puts the bucket down, and takes a moment to calm himself. He looks at Malicia, and then at Rebecca, then picks up the bucket.

"Well.." Becca stands and takes a step back.

Malicia's face is stony, her eyes shining with eagerness. Cheriour takes a step forward and then hurls the water against the officer, forcing him immediately to a consciousness. The pain in his arm is immediate, and he wails in pain. At a glance he takes in the room: cement, completely bare except for chains bolted into the walls, to which he is cuffed. From what he can see of the door above, it is metal and locked. Only a small vent in the wall and a drain on the floor add any flavour to his surroundings.

Malicia's fingers run up and down her knife, without her even being aware of it, and as she watches the man screaming, her mouth forms a small smile.

Cheriour looks at Rebecca, and then stands still, waiting for her to lead. She bites her lip as the man begins to wail, colour draining from her face. She takes a step forward and murmurs softly. "Hush. Hush....we have some questions for you." She frowns, hesitating a moment, before crouching down at the mans side, reaching out to brush at his forhead with cool fingers. "Just answer honestly, tell us the truth, and everything will be fine, okay?" She attempts a reassuring smile, which in reality is more a grimace than anything.

The cop quiets down, and looks at Rebecca. "You're...I'm the law! You can't do this to me! I...Im putting you under arrest..." His voice peters off, and he stares hopelessly at Rebecca. He says in a very small voice "Please...please don't hurt me."

"You don't want us to hurt you?" laughs Malicia. "What about the woman you raped? How do you think she felt?" Becca blinks rapidly, swallowing hard, her thoughts going to Gabe, Jordan and Arc for a moment, before she leans back, letting Malicia speak for a moment.

The cop blinks, and then answers, slowly, "I didn't rape anyone. Who...who told you that? I'm a cop, we...I don't rape people. Maybe..."

Becca leans forward. "Tell us the truth...We're here to help you...tell us..." Malicia fondles her knife, this time very aware, holding it very visibly. The cop looks at Cheriour, and then at Malicia, and then at Rebecca, and his lip begins to tremble. Tears form in his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

"You are the basest of vile creatures. Scum who pretends to hold to Justice, while flaunting it, lessening it..." Becca hisses at Malicia, turning to glare at her, angry, but Malicia's eyes only narrow at her for a moment, then move back to stare in the man's eyes. Cold. Hard. Hate.

Becca turns back to the injured man, her cool fingers brushing over his forehead again, her face a picture of sympathy and compassion. "Tell us the truth. We serve justice...but justice is compassionate. Let us know what happened..." Malicia just... keeps... staring.

"She...I..." The cop shakes his head, unable to speak. Beads of sweat build up on his forehead. "You're crazy. All of you. You're crazy." Becca sighs, glancing back at Malicia and Cheriour, knowing their patience will very quickly come to an end. "Talk to us, tell us the truth...before it's too late."

"Who the hell ARE you people?" he moans.

Cheriour steps forward, and reaches to the man's forehead. The cop struggles, but Cheriour grips it, and then says: "Patrick Zemecki, I know your sins. Know them again, and may their fire scorch your soul!"

"WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU PEOPLE?" he screams

"This isn't working. It's not working. Cheriour, we've mad a mistake."

"Yeah! Yeah, you made a mistake. That's what I been telling you!" the cop pants, his head hanging.
Cheriour turns to Rebecca. "Judge him and see."

Becca stands and steps to Cheriour. "Remember...remember what we did before. It worked. It was just. Why do we need to do this now. We don't know the whole story...You, and Malicia, you aren't acting with compassion..."

"You want to show compassion to a man who... RAPED a woman?"

"I told you," Zemeckis pants, "I didn't rape nobody."

"He forced himself on her! He has earned no compassion."

"He is a rapist, and a liar. Judge him, and make him know his sins."

Becca spins to face Malicia. "Justice IS compassion!"

"Justice is JUSTICE."

Becca sneers at Malicia. "You don't have a clue what true Justice is."

"I'm a COP, man. I PROTECT people!" he mumbles, between snippets of their conversation. Malicia whirls on him. "You pretend to protect people!"

"Huh?"

"You have forsaken your oaths!"

The cop's eyes are glassy, the sweat running down his cheeks. Cheriour leans down, and looks the cop in his eyes. "You are going to die tonight. Will you do it with the burden of rape on your soul? If you tell us the truth, your soul will soar to the Lord, and you will know his mercy."

"Jesus Christ...." he whimpers. "You're fucking crazy..." he begins to whine.

"Jesus. This is wrong. This is not Justice...this is insanity. He's suffering." Becca turns back to the prone cop, and crouches down at his side, pressing her fingers to his forhead. "I'm sorry...tell me...what did you do..."

Malicia steps back. "I know he did it. I guess you will just have to see for yourself."

She turns to Malicia. "Did you see it happen?"

"I haven't seen it," Malicia hesitates, not sure how to describe her experiences.

Cheriour stands, and takes Rebecca by the shoulders. "Rebecca...I can feel his guilt. He has done this thing."

Becca shakes her head and laughs. "So you don't know what happened, you don't know the circumstances...You didn't see him commit the crime, you have no PROOF..." She stiffens as Cheriour touches her.

"I ain't done nothing, you crazy fuck! What the fuck!? What the hell?" He starts rocking back and forth in the chair, screaming as the bones in his arm scrape against each other.

Cheriour looks into Rebecca's eyes. "I ask you to believe that I know, in my heart, that he has done this, that I have been told through the powers God gave me. If you cannot believe me, we will allow him to leave. We will not do this if you say it is unjust."

"Rebecca, I wasn't there," Malicia says more firmly, "but I saw it, in my own mind, I saw it as if I were her..."

Becca shakes her head and sighs. "Fine." She stands, crossing her arms, her jaw set angrily, her face pale.

Malicia turns to face the man again. "I almost felt what it was like."

"What did you see, crazy bitch? You saw nothing. NOTHING!!" She brandishes her knife at him, pointing at his chest. "For fuck's sake! Just let me go...please...let me go...I swear. I swear to God..."

Cheriour looks at the cop, and then at Rebecca. His expression is soft as he asks, "Rebecca, do you believe that this is unjust?"

Malicia murmurs, "I want... so much... to kill him now."

"I didn't do nothing. I don't remember. I didn't do nothing. Please, just let me go. Please,please, please..." he whines, trying his best to lean his chair away from Malicia's blade.

Becca watches silently, her gaze hard as she looks from Cheriour to Malicia and back. "Clearly I'm outnumbered here. Do what you think is necessary..." She bites her lip, blinking rapidly and refusing to meet Cheriours eyes.

"I have seen your filthy lies with my own eyes!" Malicia fairly screams at him.

"JESUS CHRIST! GET THAT CRAZY FUCKING WHORE AWAY FROM ME!!!" He bumps his chair back and tips it over, trying to get away from Malicia. His broken arm folds beneath him, and he screams in pain, sobbing, begging for his life. "Get that crazy fucking whore away from me! It wasn't me! I was never in that fucking alley!"

Cheriour kneels, and looks up at her. "Rebecca...I ask you this. This is not a condemnation or a challenge. I put the fate of this man in your hands. I trust you to do what is Just." Becca looks at him, her face pale, tears in her eyes. "Jesus, Cheriour...this...doesn't feel right. Does it feel right to you?"

"How can you even be pretending this!?" Malicia cries. "You are a bastard at the deepest level of the word!"

"Let me go. Please, just let me go. I won't do it again. I swear. I learned my lesson. Okay? I changed my ways, okay? I get it, I get it, okay, just let me go!!!"

"You won't even admit your own guilt!"

As Malicia approaches, he screams, a long, protruded wail, kicking his feet in the air pathetically. She puts her face right up to his. "Somehow, it's important to Becca that you do. And that means it's important to Cheriour. And that means it's important to me." She puts her knife right up to his eye. "I want to hear, from your own lips, the name of the woman you raped."

Cheriour, still looking at Becca, nods. "Yes. It feels right to me, Rebecca. Justice used to be hard for me as well, but God helped me through the suffering."

"Justice? What the hell? You think killing me...killing...an innocent man is justice? What the fuck? What kind of crazy fuck..."

Becca looks away from Cheriour and shakes her head, looking over to Malicia, pausing a moment before turning and shoving her away from their victim, hissing angrily. "Stop that. Get your knife away from him!"

"I won't do anything until he admits it, because you are weak. What else do you want?" She moves forward again, still pointing the knife. Cheriour rises to his feet. He looks at Rebecca and Malicia, and his face is a turmoil. "Say it!" she commands.

Becca growls, her eyes narrowing. "Weak? WEAK?" She snarls "Fuck you, Malicia!" She steps between Malicia and the cop, who is screaming continually, a high-pitched, squirrely sound that grates at the very base of your skull. He screams over and over, his voice the sound of a thousand fingernails scraping a thousand chalkboards, magnified a thousand times over.

"Why are we being held up over this? I saw him do it! I saw from my own eyes as if I were her!"

Cheriour says, "If we are not united in purpose, we are unjust. We must release him, Malicia."

"You weren't even there, you crazy fucking whore! You didn't see a fucking thing!"

She looks straight at Rebecca. "You would let a guilty man go, just because he won't admit his guilt?"

He's panting, still trying to scrabble backwards.

Suddenly Malicia goes very silent. "I wasn't... where? What didn't I see?"

"This is not Justice, Malicia. You're a fool."

"Huh?" he shakes his head against the floor.

"You just said I wasn't there. You see, Rebecca? He has even condemned himself, even if unwillingly. But what guilty man condemns himself on purpose?"

Zemeckis twists his head away from Malicia, and moans.

Cheriour sinks to the floor, and buries his face in his hands. "God..." he says softly, "give me a sign, my Lord. Show me Justice, show me your will..."

The cop makes a funny sound. A raspy, gravelly noise...he's laughing. "You've got to be kidding me. A bunch of religious freaks? THAT'S what you guys are?"

Malicia just stares at him. Her eyes radiate pure hatred.

Becca pales, and turns to look at the man on the floor.
"Please, Lord, please..." Cheriour is saying. "I have tried to serve you faithfully...show me truth..."

"What, you're trying to get me to confess!? Is that it? Okay. Fine. In grade three, I shit my pants. In high school, I had impure thoughts. I swore. It's been...fucking forever since my last confession. Are you kidding me?"

"Don't...." She shakes her head, swallowing hard, staring at their victim...

"Are you going to tell me to say the Lord's prayer, and then that guy there take me out back and bugger me for a while? Is that how this works? I went to a catholic church. I know how this works."

"Lord...you know my love for you...I ask you to help your servant, to show him Your will..."

Malicia makes a sound of pure frustration.

Rebecca shakes her head. "No...that's not how this works."

"Shit, if you're waiting for God to tell you what to do, you want to ask him why I never got that BIKE I asked for? I mean, while you're at it? Why don't you just ask why the fuck God let that fucking street whore shiv my partner?"

"Should we then ask God what you DID to that 'whore'?" Malicia says in a dangerous voice.

Cheriour raises his face from his hands, and tears stain his face, "I do not want to hurt you again, my Lord! Please! I don't want to hurt you again!"

"Yeah! You keep praying. Ask God! He'll tell you!"

Cheriour buries his face in his hands, and begins to sob.

"Malicia!" Rebecca hisses angrily. "This isn't right. We need to let him go. Maybe...He did do something to that woman...and maybe, he was doing what was necessary."

He laughs again, swivelling his face around to see Cheriour. "What, God ain't talking to you no more?" He begins laughing so hard he starts to cough. Cheriour looks at him, and there is no anger in his voice as he says, "I don't know, Mortal. I do not know. Does he? Can you tell me?"

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!" Malicia growls her frustration. "You can FEEL his guilt!" The man wheezes, tries to catch his breath. "You untie me, bitch, and you'll feel more than that..." he mutters. "NO! I can't!" Rebecca shouts, spinning to face the man on the floor. "Shut up! SHUT UP!" The cop stares at Cheriour, whips his head around when Rebecca starts to holler. "What, you don't hear God no more, neither? That's a crying shame, sweetheart."

"Okay," Malicia mutters at the same time. "I'll untie you." Then she reaches forward, and starts to unattach his manacles. He rolls to the side, grabbing his broken arm in the opposite hand. Staggers to his feet. Becca watches, her eyes narrow, every muscle in her body tense as Malicia starts to release the prisoner, stepping a little closer to him. He leans against the wall, trying to regain his strength.

Cheriour shakes his head. "Evil cannot go unpunished..."

"Evil cannot go unpunished..."

Becca turns to look at Cheriour, her eyes wide.

"Yeah. Evil cannot go unpunished," says Zemeckis. "You oughta teach these bitches a lesson..."

Cheriour looks at the man. "Evil cannot go unpunished."

"Cheriour..." pleads Rebecca. Cheriour looks at her, his eyes feverish. "Evil cannot go unpunished. Evil cannot go unpunished!" He stands. Becca shakes her head, her eyes welling with tears. "Cheriour..."

The cop sidles along the wall. "They accused me of something I never did! They were lying! That crazy whore with the knife...she's the evil one!" As the man moves to the wall, Malicia moves so that she is always facing him. She doesn't let Rebecca get behind her, either, but she does nothing to impede Cheriour as he steps forward, and takes Rebecca's face in his hands, gently. "Evil cannot go unpunished," he whispers.

"Just take it easy, man," the man says, continuing to move along the wall, making his way to te window.

"Don't...Cheriour..." Rebecca says softly.

Cheriour looks at the man. "You are evil. A rapist without remorse."

Zemeckis continues to attempt to move toward the door, since the windows have been boarded over and papered with a ducky-motif wallpaper. "Sure, man, whatever. Look, just settle down, okay?" He continues to try to put distance between himself and Cheriour, and Malicia continues to move, not allowing anyone, especially the man, to stand behind her. Her eyes swivel left and right, hate for the cop, hope for Cheriour, hate, hope, hate, hope...

Becca watches Cheriour, every muscle tense...

"I don't know what you think I did, buddy, but you can't just...you can't just take justice intoyour own hands. That's why we have laws."

Cheriour takes Rebecca's hands gently, and moves them to his own neck. "You can't let this man go. I cannot let you. You must do what is right." He sqeezes her hands softly, so they choke him slightly. Her fingers flex against his throat. Then he lowers his hands, but she shakes her head. "No.... no, this isn't right Cheriour."

"That's why we have laws," Zemeckis repeats. "And I'm a cop, man. I uphold those laws. ...You gotta let me go. I promise I'll tell them to go easy on you." He continues to sidle around the room, and Malicia continues to move opposite him.

"I'm real sorry for all the bad things I've done, you know? If that's what this is about..." he's glancing around the room, looking for some way out. "If that's what this is about, then just tell me what you think I did...and I'll make up for it."

Cheriour looks at Rebecca, holds her shoulders. "If this is not Just, then I am unjust, and you must send me to the Lord for His Judgement. Then you can let this man free."

"No..." Becca's hands drop to her sides. "I won't do that...You...do what you feel is right, Cheriour."

"I'll...whattayacallit...repent. Yeah. I'll repent," murmurs their captive. "Just...think about this, man," he says, keeping his eye on Malicia, "Whatever it is you think I did, is it really worth it to ...to spend the rest of your life in jail?"

Cheriour sees nothing but the woman opposite him. "Rebecca..."

'"Rebecca, you got to let me go!" Zemeckis fairly shouts at Rebecca.

She shakes her head, whispering. "I've lost my way, Cheriour. You've never lost touch with God...not like me. You never lost faith. Do what you think is right."

"You know I you gotta let me go. I'm a *cop*, Rebecca."

"You were never a cop," Malicia sneers quietly.

"Rebecca," he calls, a little louder. "I'm like you. I protect people. You have to let me go."

Rebecca finally turns to the man, and shakes her head. "I was a cop once...I never took the law into my own hands..."

Cheriour nods, and turns to the cop. "You are an evil man, an unrepentant rapist. I know this. Will you die with this sin upon you?"

"That's it, Rebecca," Zemeckis says, ignoring Cheriour. "You can't take the law into your own hands. You can't be a ...a vigilante. You have to let me go..." his strength is returning, and his voice much more steady.

Becca bites her lip, clearly uncertain. "But I have...since then...because I am Justice...God's Justice..." Meanwhile Cheriour kneels, his hands tucked into his body. When he rises, he grips Righteousness in his right hand, and Conviction in the other.

"It's okay, Rebecca. I'm sure, you know, I'm sure God will forgive you. You just have to do the right thing. You have to let me go." He reaches out with his good hand to touch Rebecca's arm. "You have to let me go."

Cheriour approaches the man, brandishing his machetes, and Becca laughs, a desprate, near hysterical sound. "God will never forgive me for what i've done..." Malicia makes a strange sound in the back of her throat at that.

"Yes he will!" the cop nearly shouts. "Yes he will! That's...uh...that's what God does, right? He forgives you."

"No....I turned my back on Him....I can never go back...I've committed the one sin that He won't ever forgive..."

Cheriour turns to Rebecca. "God loves you, Rebecca, and He will forgive you." Cheriour then moves to chop the cop's head in half. "No..." Before Cheriour's blades can connect with the cop, Becca dives in front of him, pushing him to the ground and taking the brunt of the attack on her own head. Cheriour's blads slice throught the flesh at the point where the cop *had* been standing, and Rebecca's body crumples to the floor, blood pouring out where her head has been sliced in two.

Cheriour screams and falls the the floor, dropping his weapons. The cop, sprawled half beneath Rebecca, stares wide-eyed at the scene before him, Cheriour's blades dripping with Rebecca's blood. The Fallen takes Rebecca's body in his hands. "No...no!" His weapons clatter to the floor, slowly dematerialising as everyone's attention is focussed on the scene in front of them. Visible from the corner of an eye is a strange kind of motion...a shadow from the corner of the room slowly inching across the floor.

"Why punish her, Lord!?" Cheriour screams in anguish, tears pouring down his face. "Why punish her!?"

Malicia tries, and fails, to be soft. "She will be all right, Cheriour. It is a mild punishment, for her failure to be strong. Death is mild enough for us."

Ignoring Malicia, Cheriour holds her tightly, and then takes Righteousness in his hand. "You will not do this alone." He drives his weapon into his gut. Again, and again, and again.

The shadows slither closer, as the room seems to grow slightly darker. As they touch Rebecca's body, it begins to lose form, growing...somehow...*dimmer*. The darkness in the room grows out of the pool of blood on the floor, as Cheriour's form also begins to dematerialise. A strong smell of urine fills the room as the cop's mouth opens and closes.

Malicia stares at the two bodies for a moment as silence surrounds her. Then in three steps she crosses the room to Zemeckis. He shies away, but she moves faster, and as a serpent striking, slashes his throat.

"You caused this," she cries angrily, and with a last look at her two companions sprawled across the floor, she hoists the corpse across her shoulder and ascends the stairs. She rummages about for rope until she finds a dirt-covered length of it, and expertly ties it about the neck of the dead Zemeckis. Then, eyes darting this way and that, she darts across the street and slaps the button for the gate, slipping out as soon as there is room. Behind her, it continues to rumble open, and Malicia picks up speed, soon going at a full run. She watches wildly for onlookers as she moves, but after only a few blocks she stops.

Sweat beading on her forehead, Malicia crouches in the shadows with the dead man. Whenever there are no cars within sight, she darts out into the street, splashing blood to form words. It takes her a long time, but eventually a crudely-formed phrase is visible to anyone who stops and spends a moment reading: "THIS IS THE PRICE OF CORRUPTION. RETURN TO JUSTICE WHILE YOU STILL CAN."

That done, it only takes a moment to scale the streetlights and hurriedly tie the other end of the rope to it. She drops the body at the same instant she herself drops to the pavement and scurries back into the shadows. She only stops for a moment to view her handiwork: the dead cop, his clothes looking as if he'd worn them a month, covered in blood, hanging in the middle of Pasqua street, the words below his feet written in his own blood. Then she darts away, and runs back to the domus panting.

Once there, she cleans things up as much she can, getting rid of the blood on her hands as well as on the concrete floor. She stands for a moment looking at the place where the bodies had been, but she does not cry. Instead she heads back to her new domus with Rada, crawling into bed at dawn and sleeping like the dead.

Shamus Attacks Corral
May 2010
Cooperatively written by
Joey/Shamus, Laura/Corral/Malicia, and our Storyteller, Jill

Malicia walks along the sidewalk in the wee hours before dawn. She is wearing a heavy overcoat, although it is too warm. A couple of people walk near her, and every few feet they exchange glances or a few words. She walks along Broad, toward the city Police Station. She walks with purpose, and she holds her head high, although the expression on her face is one of nervousness. She does not seem to notice anything amiss. She does not seem to notice anything but the sidewalk in front of her, the building up the block, and, briefly, the people who walk near her. As she approaches the Leader-Post building, she makes a point of staying as far away as possible from the building itself, skirting around to the very furthest edge of the parking lot. She glances back at the building a lot, and keeps her hands jammed deep in her pocket. She sits in a small heap at the corner of the parking lot, then says something to one of her acquaintances...something about traffic control. As her companions settle in, Malicia opens the backpack and looks over its contents, enough different kinds of explosives to do a lot of damage to something. She hands a couple of wires to one of her acquaintances, who looks it over and hands it back. He looks at her as he finishes, as if to ask, "Are you sure?" She nods. It won't be long now before the sun comes up. Malicia seems nervous, but content. Then a shadow blocks out the glow of bluish pink on the eastern horizon.

"What the fack d'ye think ye're about?" Shamus hisses. He is livid, and as he speaks, he raises his sword. "D'ye think this will make amends, ye buggy facker?"

Malicia looks up in surprise, raising her hands against Shamus' sword. "It will hurt no one but myself," she murmurs. "Please don't interfere."


"Lass, you've destroyed innocents in my city. I have witnessed you're evil and honorless acts. I cannot be lettin' ye live. I have held me tongue long enough and I'll not have evil the likes of yers run rampant among innocents. I can see you intend more destruction, and you be wrong. This will hurt more than just you." The White King waves the blade at his surroundings. "Your friends are here, and so is your King. This building is important to this society. A society that you share with the humans." Shamus levels the tip of the blade at the Black Queen. "The weight of your evil will crush your soul, and I will crush your body."

Malicia instinctively retreats from the blade, but then stops and carefully stands up, until Shamus' sword is pointed at her throat. "I have done horrible things in the past," she says, her voice quiet. "I am serving punishment for one of them now. What is it that you think I intend to do here, Shamus?"

"Your intentions at this place have no relevance lassie. It's yer actions during the last gathering that guide me blade. Face your fate with honor, or as a coward."

The woman dances back and glances around. Her companions are watching, not saying or doing anything to interfere. "If I let you kill me now, then I cannot protect the families... please don't. I will come to you afterward, if you really wish it."

"You have not begun to serve punishment, nor will you in this realm and I'll send you to whatever god you wish." The White King speaks quietly, yet quickly, under his breath. "And Shepards shall we be. For Thee my Lord for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. And we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. Il nomine Padre, et Fili. Spiritus Sancti." He reaches out and touches Malicia, drawing out the essence of her sins. Scenes flash in front of his eyes. He sees the murder of the partygoers from Malicia's point of view... but it is blurry, rushed, unlike any time he has ever done this before. The images he sees are blood, people moving around in stop-motion close-ups, sometimes a limb or a face... but none of them is clear or focussed. The second scene is a messy body and Bal's eager eyes, just as blurry.

Malicia and Shamus stumble back from each other, both witnessing the images at the same time.

"No, no," Malicia cries. "I must protect them... I must pay... why won't you let me atone for this?!"

The White King shudders at the brief images passing through his mind, a look of revulsion in his eyes. "You've felt the weight of your sins lass. If atonement is what ye be wantin' then you shall have it." A tear of blood falls from the White King's face as he levels the blade to the broken Black Queen. "It will be swift, do not be afraid."

Malicia falls to her knees and begins to sob. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she says between breaths. "I just want to make it right again." But Shamus swings his blade at her, preparing to chop off her head. Her sad eyes watch as the sword comes down on her - "Don't, don't," she mutters, but doesn't move away - and then veers away of its own accord at the last second. The White King suddenly gets a vague sense of the depth of Malicia's sins... and knows that she is clean.

The Fallen turns her face away from her aggressor. "Is this Justice, Shamus?" she asks. "I can help to right the wrongs I've done. Death... or death for a cause? Please, let me finish this task. Let the humans see that their killer has been found. And then kill me, where they can see it. I will let you do it. It is what I am here to do."


The White King appears a bit surprised when his blade hits, but seemingly with little effect. He pauses his onslaught. "So be it Malicia, but I will wait and watch. Justice will be delivered by me hand. Do as you must." Shamus gently rests the tip of the blade on the ground and crosses his hands over its hilt, waiting patiently.

Malicia lets out a long breath, bowing her head. "A moment, please. What you just did... those people..." she trails off, closing her eyes and taking a few minutes to steady her breath.

When finally she returns to the moment, her eyes have tears in them, sadder even than before. "Please, call me Corral. I'm Corral now. Even you insist that I die here today... I don't want to leave this world as ... as her." She emphasizes the word strangely, with distaste in her voice.

Shamus says nothing for a moment, only watching with a steely expression.

"...My plan was to go inside, like this." She gestures at the leather jacket she is wearing - "Wearing her jacket, carrying her blade, with the blood still on it," - and briefly pulls a blade from the pocket, displaying it. "I'm going to confess to everything. I..." her voice breaks, and she pauses for a moment. "I was going to try to obtain the names of the families of the victims. To protect them." Her voice cracks. "You must have heard that somebody's been killing them. And then I was going to let them see me die. Give them whatever relief that offers... and share a portion of the fate of the people I killed." The Fallen gestures at the explosives in the backpack. "But if you insist that I die the True death... then I won't be able to protect them. If I get the names, can you make sure somebody does it for me?"

Suddenly her shoulders hunch up even further, and her voice gets quieter. "I can't do anybody any good, if I die permanently. If I can just get this behind me, there's so much I can still do for this city. We're united right now, under one neutral Queen. And Eddie needs me. Isn't there anything I can do to prove to you that I'm not her any more?"


In a cold, dead voice; "No."

Shamus looks at the Black Queen intently, trying to figure her out. "Ye have me word that I will not stop hunting the individuals who have been killing these families. Their fate will be much more swift than yours I am afraid. There will be no words. No courtesies for "Brothers of the Blade". And no honor. Your motives are 'just'. I respect you enough to allow you this courtesy. We have faught and bled together, and I cannot forget the times we have helped each other in battle. But make no mistake that your recent actions will haunt my memories along with my own sins. And they'll not be forgotten." The White King pauses; "Aequitas....'brother'."

"Edward is part of my new family. She will be closely tended to. Of that, you also have me word."

"And Molior? The codex? What will you tell everyone?"


"Let me be worryin' about that. Molior will share your fate, you'll see him in your next life."

Corral nods, then bows her head for a long time, her brow furrowed. Tears slip down her face.

"So be it," she says finally, taking a deep breath. "I'll come out once to pass the names to you, if I've gotten them. Then I'll go back in. When I come out those doors the second time, shortly after, I will be ranting and pacing. Wait until a crowd gathers. Then kill me."

Shamus solemnly bows his head, and yet one more tear drips from his chiseled face. He does not say anything, but waits patiently near the door in the exact same position. Hands crossed over the hilt of his sword.

"Tell Eddie... tell her I'm sorry. Tell ... just tell them all that I was a better person in the end." Her voice cracks, and she takes a moment to compose herself.

Finally she starts to leave, then turns around one last time. "Gregory... give Eddie and Dorian my notes. They might as well have them to remember me by." Then she turns the corner. Shamus watches her enter the station.

Time goes by. The sun peeks out from the horizon; it rises. Just as Shamus is starting to wonder whether Malicia somehow escaped her fate, a sudden buzz of activity erupts in the building. Police officers rush in and out of the station. Not more than ten minutes later, Shamus hears Corral's voice from the firmament. "They didn't know the names. I signed the confession anyway. Remember what I told you. And make sure the humans know about this. Please tell the Civitas, too. I'm going back in... it won't be long now." A pause. "I wish it could have been another way." Another pause, briefer. "Good-bye. Just know that I forgive you for this."

A few minutes later, the station doors burst out from the hinges, and Malicia comes out, shouting. She is wearing prison clothes and seems a complete lunatic, waving her arms, pacing, ranting. In a few short moments, police, having streamed out the door behind her, have surrounded her, and people are staring, openmouthed.

Shamus stands at attention, patiently waiting for Malicia to present herself. As the crowd stares on, the White King squares off to his rival. "Do not fear lass, I will give you the penance you require." He hefts his blade with the proficiency of a true soldier. "All will remember you for the soldier that you were, instead of the monster you became. I hope someday, people can say the same for me." Shamus waits a few moments, to ensure a sufficient crowd has gathered. As he readies his blade, he says to the humans; "This is the ''Slayer of the Northwest'. Watch her fate." As Shamus begins his descent upon the Black Queen, a brilliant flash of blue from his eyes as he flares his Nimbus. He swiftly begins the onslaught, allowing no quarter.

As the light flares from Shamus' eyes, somethings steps out from a nearby vehicle. Its shape is indistinct, and it moves toward Shamus and Malicia/Corral with an ambling gait. It makes no sound as it approaches, its grey form seemingly fuzzy at the edges. Its form is vaguely anthropomorphic, but its features are difficult to make out...as if it were covered in lichen, or strips of greyish gauze, the somewhat human-shaped creature appears to be heading for a spot between the two Fallen.

Corral continues her tirade, but takes a step toward Shamus, moving closer as quickly as she dares. Shamus, ignoring the chaos around him, flares his Nimbus again and tries to attack the Black Queen, but the shadowy form appears suddenly between the two Fallen. Both are filled with a sense of intense foreboding, as it reaches out with both hands, one reaching to touch Corral on the forehead, the other reaching for Shamus' wrist.

Shamus whips his arm out of the way of the dark figure's grasp, as Corral leans out of the way of its hand. "Fuck," she breathes, dropping the lunatic act. "Get away, Shamus. Run. It probably only wants me... Run, everybody. All of you. RUN!" But the people in the background don't seem to be paying any attention to what's going on in the parking lot.

Suddenly, a huge sword appears in the creature's grasp, and it swings the weapon around in a wide circle, aiming for Shamus' midsection.
Corral, hands still empty of her usual weapon, tries to get between Shamus and their grey opponent. "Dammit," she says, "It's ME you want. I'm ready to take whatever you're dishing out. Let Shamus go."

Shamus deftly dodges the wide swing aimed at his stomach, and as Malicia moves to get between the two, Shamus takes the target of opportunity to finish his work. The whole time keeping his attention on the much more imposing and dangerous figure. "I be thinkin' its here for both of us lass. And I'll be fuckered if I go quietly. We can finish this after we live." Shamus leaves no time for the creature to react, and dives right into a furious offense at the shadowy figure. It in turn raises its sword and swings it around in a wide arc, aiming for Shamus' midsection.

"No," she moans, "too late, then. Aaagh, too late already." She lifts her hand and her dagger speeds into it. "Shroud... you're only making it worse, I don't understand how you think this will help. How does killing more people do anything to help?!"

The Shroud continues the arc of its blow, striking Shamus just above the left hip, opening a huge gash. Shamus staggers away, leveling his own sword at the grey figure. The figure then turns its attention to Corral. "Fack off mate, she's mine." The White King rushes forward and takes his turn at the creature's back, with the fury of God at his side.

Corral looks at Shamus and recoils from the sight of the wounds. She then shifts her gaze to the dagger in her hand, and tries to step back, but stumbles. "I... I can't," she stutters. "Shamus, just run..." The Shroud reaches down and grasps her by the shoulder. At the creature's touch, her face goes blank. She drops the dagger and her arms fall limp at her sides. The Shroud twists itself around and reaches for Shamus. At its icy touch, Shamus' sword clatters to the ground and the concentration on his face turns to a blank stare. The Shroud then twists itself to face the police station. It begins to move toward it; its stride must be huge, as every step it takes brings it ten feet closer to the building. Neither Corral nor Shamus can tell how much time passes until it reappears, through the wall of the building...leaving the wall entirely intact.

It returns to where Shamus and Malicia/Corral stand, staring off into the distance, the world going on around them. Where have Corral's friends gone? They're nowhere to be seen...The Shroud's face is stony, set. No light burns in its eyes. It places one cold hand on Corral's neck and one on Shamus', and it pushes them forward.

Corral and the Shroud (Corral's POV of the end of the Shamus Attacks Corral scene)
May, 2010
Everything past the first paragraph (Jill) is written by Laura/Corral

When it is finished, the Shroud approaches you. Its huge blade is once again in its hand, and suddenly your senses are returned to you.

Corral sees Shamus, tied to the tree and bleeding. Her first instinct is to try to rescue him, but as the Shroud steps forward and her fear mounts, that thought disappears. There is only escape. She'd seen what it had done to him with just one strike of the sword. She'd seen how it had brought them both to a standstill with one simple gesture. To do anything but flee would mean death. Flight would probably mean death anyway, but as much as she hated it, her will to live exceeded her desire to rescue Shamus, and she turned and ran.

She was haunted, too, by thoughts of the fight between Shamus and the Shroud. Why hadn't she been able to help? Everything she knew told her that she'd fought many times in her life, even against angels and devils. But she couldn't bring any of those memories up, couldn't harness the muscle memory or, more importantly, the *willpower* to do harm. She couldn't bring herself to do it when demons attacked census a couple of months ago, and it was made worse by her recent memories of killing those people. Even holding a weapon made her think of the blood, so much blood.

So she ran. She was fast, and if her opponent had been human or even Fallen, she would have easily outdistanced it. ((She's using the 2 distance ranks of Slay)). But of course, it was not. It was a Shroud, who could walk past walls or large distances without needing to actually pass through the intervening space. It was a Shroud, whose supposed purpose was to prevent humans from finding out about the Fallen. But it didn't seem to have any actual interest in that. It was probably the one who had been killing investigators, reporters, and the families of the victims, which could only serve to increase the scope of the problem. It had also prevented her from doing the one thing that would, she realized, have stopped the investigations. And it had some horrible interest in Shamus. Why did it want *him*?

She ran, but it appeared in front of her. She turned and fled the other way, but in a moment, there it was again. Her fear welled up, but so did her confusion and anger. "You're supposed to want to *stop* this," she said in frustration, and called up her blade. "What I was doing would have *ended* it, for both of us." It stepped toward her, unspeaking, hefting its blade. And finally Corral made herself thrust the blade toward it. It caught the blade with its own, twisting it until she dropped her weapon, and then it continued the motion, toward her heart. "Nooooo," she cried as she felt the steel tear into her. She fell to her knees, the pain beginning to engulf her. "Please don't," she murmured, as it struck at her again, and blackness swelled. "I don't understand," she thought to herself as she fell.

And then she was no more.